Page:The lay of the Nibelungs; (IA nibelungslay00hortrich).pdf/465

XXXVIII.]

Then spake the fiddle-player: “Fear claims too much, I trow,

When all that is forbidden a man must needs forego;

By me that were not reckon’d a right good hero’s mood!”

The speech of his companion seemed unto Hagen good.

“That shall not serve your purpose,” Wolfhart in answer spake:

“I’ll so untune your fiddle that you a tale may take,

Along with you, when homewards unto the Rhine you ride;

I cannot brook with honour your overweening pride.”

Then spake the fiddle-player: “If thou a fiddlestring

Of mine untuneful makest, thy helmet’s glittering

Must speedily be lessen’d and clouded by my hand,

Howe’er betide my riding to the Burgundian land.”

He would have sprung upon him, if he had not been stay’d

By Hildebrand his uncle, who hands upon him laid:

“In this thy senseless anger thou wouldst, I trow, go mad,

And so my master’s favour might’st never more have had.”

“Let go the lion, master! fierce though he be of mood,

Comes he into my clutches,” said Volker, warrior good,

“Even though a world of people he with his hands hath slain,

I’ll kill him, that the story he ne’er may tell again.”

By this was sorely quicken’d the Berners’ angry mood;

And Wolfhart clutch’d his buckler, a ready knight and good:

E’en like a savage lion in front of them he rush’d,

Whilst following close behind him his friends the onset push’d.